TEENAGER SPENCER REID
by sassybenny
Summary: life of teenager reid /hints at abuse/


Spencer Reid was starting his first day at high school. At just at the tender age of 12, he woke up early in the morning to prepare. First he checked on his mother, he couldn't remember a time where he didn't have to look after his mum, but he didn't complain, she was the only one who really understood him and his intelligence. What other teenager could talk to their mums about great literature pieces, but then again, what other teenager reads novels meant to be studied at university level.

He got himself out of bed, he didn't mind getting up and he hated lying on his bed, his mind was all over the place and he besides, the mattress was far too lumpy. He carefully tiptoed into his parent's room. He hoped that it was past 7 and that his father had gone to work, but he didn't get lucky. Standing in the door frame was the figure of William Reid. Spencer stood still, not daring to move. After a couple of seconds the shadowing figure moved slowly downstairs. Spencer breathed out a small sigh of relief, not today, he thought as he continued into his parent's room.

Lying on the bed was his mother, who, to Spencer's surprise, was already up and reading. He gently settled himself at the end of the bed, sinking into the much comfier mattress. 'Mum' he softly whispered. 'Spencer, shouldn't you be getting ready' she replied in the same toned voice. 'Probably, I don't want to though. I'm younger than them, an easy target.' He could always tell his mum how he was feeling, when she was stable she would be able to comfort him, make him laugh and most importantly she would read to him. Reading had always been a passion of Reid's, he would spend a whole day reading at the local library, getting through around 5 books a day. He found it easy and charming, a way to escape from the real world and enter the glamorous lives of the characters and explore the thoughts of the authors.

He picked himself off from his mothers' side and walked out of the room, they had sat in silence for a number of minutes and it had occurred to him that, though his father had not left yet, his mother had not been given her medication- helping her with her schrizophania. Walking down to the kitchen, he reached inside the medicine cabinet situated above the microwave and pulled out his mother's daily meds. He filled up the kettle, turned it on and waited for the water to boil. He relaxed to the calming sound of the water bubbling against the kettles sides, as it was harshly heated and the gentle humming of the kettle relaxed his eye lids as they slowly crept down his tired eyes. Just as he was about to fully close his eyes he heard the harsh shutting of the door. Spencer's eyes flickered open suddenly, glancing around the small kitchen and checking to see if anyone else was in the room. To his surprise he was completely alone, maybe the sound of a door shutting was his father leaving for work? The water boiling was reaching its climax, he looked over, seeing the water pound against the sides of the see-through kettle, desperate to get out and wanting so much to be free. His mind was racing with thoughts, he was so nervous with school and meeting new people that his head was buzzing. Then silence. The kettle stopped and the water bubbled down silently, the humming ended and some peace was restored to Reid's racing mind. He popped a teabag in his favourite mug, poured the steaming water over it and added a drop of semi-skinned milk. He didn't stir immediately but instead he just waited and watched the swirling liquids mix into each other and maintain a steady, solid colour of milky brown.

He poured a glass of water and placed it on a tray along with a pop tart and the medication and carefully walked up the steep stairs to his mother's room. Seeing that she was asleep, he placed the tray on the bedside next to her and made his way back to his bedroom. He stared at himself in the mirror and felt like breaking down, everything this morning had been too much, even though he had been doing the same thing for the past 5 years. He ran his hand through his hair and swore. 'Shit, it's greasy'. He sighed heavily and shut his eyes, why hadn't he washed his hair yesterday when he had the chance. He knew that his father always had boiling showers in the morning and doubted there was much hot water left but he simply couldn't risk going to his first day at school with disgusting hair, even if it meant being late.

After his shower, he wrapped the towel around his skinny waist and made his way back to his room. He had originally scheduled 5 minutes for choosing something to wear, getting changed and brushing his hair but now he was behind and he desperately didn't want to be too late. So he shuffled into a pair of rough, black skinny jeans and a creased plait shirt. He rubbed at his wet hair with his towel, trying to dry the majority of it and then quickly brushed through it. Then, grabbing his backpack he sat down at his desk and rummaged through a pile of new books and stationary. He scrabbled around trying to find his acceptance letter, with the details on what to bring on his first day. On finding it he glanced quickly down at the details and shoved it into his bag. Following the letter he put in his new pencil case, complete with 5 black biros and a special lamy fountain pen his grandmother had given him before she died, 2 hb pencils and one 4b (for art), a scientific calculator and a flexible ruler, a maths set and a new rubber and pencil sharpener. He then slowly placed in three books, making sure he was careful not to crease the pages. For reid, nothing was worse than a creased book, whenever he went to the library he always felt sad on reading through books with the corners turned over, where people had marked their place. It made his head race with questions, like why they didn't own a bookmark when they clearly had an interest in books and why they stopped reading half way through a chapter when they were so close to the end.

Grabbing at the now fraying handle of his rucksack, he swung it over his shoulder and slipped on his fading red converse. Checking he had his keys and lunch money in his pocket, he make his way down the stairs when he realised he should probably check on his mum. To his surprise she had taken her medication without much fuss but she hadn't eaten anything and had barely touched the water. He sighed. He couldn't go without making sure she had eaten something, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he came home and found his mother starving, having not eaten all day. 'Mum' he softly said 'you need to eat something, just take a bite- you don't have to finish it if you don't want to.' With no reply he had little choice but to try and force her. He picked up the now cold poptart, and pushed it gently against her lips. For a moment she stared at Spencer, directly into his eyes. For Reid, it was like she was staring into his soul. But then her lips gave way and her teeth began to nibble the edge. It took 30 minutes before she had finished both the poptart and the water and although he was beyond late, Reid was glad he had seen her through, at least now she had some food in her and would hopefully give her some energy to even get out of bed today.


End file.
